by Rob Hill
‘I did it, Sheriff,’ Boone said again.
‘How?’
The question surprised him. But then he should have guessed the sheriff would try to trick him. Boone looked at the watching faces. Did they appreciate how fine his course of action was, how courageous, how noble?
‘Scattergun.’ Boone wasn’t going to fall for anything. He answered the question loud and clear so there could be no mistake.
‘In the back?’ The sheriff spoke so quietly, you had to strain to hear him.
Now, this was a trick. This was the sheriff trying to make him look bad. Here he was doing something right and the sheriff was painting it so he looked like a coward.
Boone kept hold of his temper.
‘He called me out, then he lost his nerve, turned to run just as I fired.’ Turned out it wasn’t so hard to out-manoeuvre old Sheriff Milton after all.
There was a gasp then. A woman somewhere in the crowd stifled a scream. People shifted in their seats. There were mutterings in the crowd. As the horror of this confession hit home, people stared at Boone with contempt. Suddenly his lofty gesture, doing the right thing, coming clean and protecting Mary May seemed an ugly pantomime.
‘In that case,’ the sheriff said quickly. ‘I’m putting you under arrest and charging you with the shooting of Charles Dunmore. I’ll take you to jail in Abilene myself and next time a hanging judge passes through, I’ll make sure you stand trial. Your confession will be evidence and the people in this room will be witnesses.’
‘He’s lying, Sheriff.’ It was a woman’s voice from the back of the crowd. ‘He made all that up to protect his girl.’
Boone recognized the voice. At least one person understood how chivalrous he was. It was his sister, Annie.
‘You got something to tell us all, Annie?’ the sheriff prompted. ‘You know something?’
‘My pa shot Dunmore,’ Annie said.
Whispers spread through the onlookers like a breeze through dry leaves. Some people shook their heads in disbelief; others stared in horror.
‘I took him out to Snake’s Creek in the buggy,’ Annie continued. ‘He used to love fishing out there. Mr Dunmore rode up and ordered us off his land. There was an argument. He said pa should know that Boone was nowhere near good enough for Mary May. Boone would never have her because he aimed to make sure of it.’ Annie had started confidently, but now she was trembling and struggled to get her words out. ‘Then he said Pa hadn’t got long to go and if he wouldn’t sell him the farm, he’d take it anyway after he was dead. Boone wouldn’t have it and nor would I.’
As if she had run out of strength, Annie stopped talking. She stared at her hands in her lap and avoided everyone’s gaze.
‘Now, Annie,’ the sheriff began softly. ‘I know you want to protect your brother, that’s only natural. Just think carefully about what you’re saying.’
‘It’s the truth, Sheriff,’ Annie said simply.
Hartford walked round the back of the crowd and put his arm round Annie’s shoulders. She looked as frail as a bird.
‘Boone has confessed,’ the sheriff said. ‘Everyone heard it. He had the opportunity; he could have followed Dunmore out to Snake’s Creek. He had the motive; Dunmore had forbidden him to carry on with Mary May. His blood was up, they’d had a fight that afternoon. Everyone knows they hated each other.’
‘If you don’t believe me, Sheriff, I got a witness.’ Annie stood up and pushed Hartford away. ‘It wasn’t just me who saw the shooting.’
‘Witness?’ The sheriff almost laughed. ‘You’d make up anything to protect your brother, wouldn’t you?’
‘I’m the witness, Sheriff.’ Pops Wardell clambered to his feet. ‘I was at the creek when Annie brought her pa out there in the buggy. Joe was mighty sick, Sheriff. Known him a long time, broke my heart to see him like that.’
Pops Wardell’s old shoulders dropped, it was as if he had slung a heavy pack on his back.
‘Dunmore came along, started ordering me off his land. Going on about how this wasn’t the first time and what he’d do if I came out there again.’ Pops looked across at Annie and smiled at her. ‘When he saw Joe Hartford, he started mocking him, asking what was a sick old man doing out here. Said it wouldn’t be long before Joe was gone and how he’d annexe his farm before his body was cold.’
Pops Wardell paused. He didn’t take his eyes off Annie.
‘Joe reached into the back of the buggy, picked up his scattergun and opened both barrels. Next second Dunmore dropped as dead as a stone.’
‘Shot him face to face while Dunmore was still arguing with him?’ The sheriff had to be certain.
‘Would have, if he could have got to his scattergun quick enough,’ Pops looked straight into the sheriff’s eyes. ‘Took him a moment, so Dunmore had turned away by then. Joe Hartford shot him in the back.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Back in his office, another wire from the commanding officer at Fort Worth was waiting for the sheriff. An army patrol had come across a gang cutting a herd on the Territory border with the intention of driving the longhorns across country to join the Western Trail to Dodge.
At first, the gang claimed to be free grazers on some itinerant journey across north Texas, but their cover story soon fell apart and it didn’t take the commander long to realize that the cowboys his men had picked up weren’t capable of running an operation like this by themselves. There had to be someone behind it to let them know when a herd would be coming through, arrange supplies and coordinate with a buyer at the other end. Faced with the prospect of army justice, the gang quickly admitted that the man they were working for was called Boone Hartford from a little town called Credence, a day’s ride north of Dallas.
‘Dunmore’s instincts were right.’ The sheriff handed the wire to Hartford. ‘His herd was being cut and Boone was a bad apple. He just never put the two together.’
In the cell that adjoined the office, Boone hung his head.
Hartford remembered his pa on the porch of the farmhouse, ill and angry, with the row between Boone and Dunmore going on inside and Mary May crying. He remembered his pa’s scattergun and his fishing pole propped up beside his chair and Mary May talking about how more than anything he loved to be taken on buggy rides.
When Hartford and the sheriff rode out to the creek to inspect the place where Dunmore died, he’d noticed wheel tracks in the dirt. ‘Bill Greely bring a wagon out here when he came to pick up the body?’
‘No sir,’ Pops said. ‘I wanted him to but he wouldn’t do it. Said he wouldn’t be able to get it close enough to the river. Brought a mule out from the stable, carried the body back to town on that.’ Pops’ face hadn’t given anything away.
Annie had told the truth.
By the time Hartford got back to the saloon, most of the bunting had been taken down. Pops Wardell was holding a ladder for Greely while Pearl supervised.
Logan came up to him, solemn-faced. Clyde Shorter and Jake Nudd stood behind him and let him do the talking.
‘Sheriff over in his office?’
What was this about? Like everyone else, Logan had seen the sheriff cross the street.
‘Sheriff’s a good man. Everyone knows that.’ Logan cleared his throat, trying to muster his words. ‘Me and Clyde just wanted to apologise. We shouldn’t have busted Jake out of jail like that. We were just mad with the sheriff for taking Dunmore’s side. . . .’ His words petered out as he found himself being critical of a dead man.
‘Better head over to his office and tell him, Logan.’ Hartford made it easy for him. ‘He’ll appreciate that.’
The last of the bunting lay in a heap in the middle of the saloon floor. McGreggor sat at a corner table with Charlie Nudd, a bottle of Pearl’s red eye between them. The men clinked glasses, clearly coming to an agreement about something. Annie and Mary May were keeping themselves busy folding up the bunting. The women worked quickly together, catching each other’s eye, smiling and finding relief in doing t
his simple task together. Pearl was behind the bar. Just as Pops and Greely manoeuvred the ladder ready to take it back to the livery, the sheriff pushed open the saloon door, followed by Logan and his boys.
‘Now listen up,’ the sheriff called for attention and waited while Pops and Greely put down the ladder. ‘A few things I’ve got to say.’
Grave-faced, he relayed the news of the wire from Fort Worth. Mary May helped Annie towards a chair, stood behind her and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. All the time the sheriff was speaking, Annie didn’t take her eyes off Hartford.
‘Boone will stand trial and if he’s found guilty, he’ll have to pay for his crime under the law,’ the sheriff said.
‘Will they hang him, Sheriff?’ Annie sounded afraid.
‘In the old days they would have,’ the sheriff said. ‘But Dunmore ain’t around to press charges. It will be Boone’s word against the fellas they caught red-handed.’
‘I got something to say, Sheriff.’ Used to taking charge, McGreggor spoke up. ‘I’ve been talking to Charlie here and he’d be happy to ride over and help to run the Hartford farm for the time being. Charlie and I reckon you could do with some help, Miss Annie.’
McGreggor carried on quickly without giving Annie time to reply.
‘As far as the Lazy D goes. I’ll make you a fair offer, when you’re ready, Mary May. In the meantime, you can come and live at the McGreggor house. The Lazy D is a big place, it could get mighty lonely out there.’
McGreggor looked pleased with himself. As self-appointed benefactor, he felt he had done well. To everyone else though, his offers of help sounded like orders.
‘I ain’t finished,’ the sheriff said testily – McGreggor had stolen his thunder. ‘Truth is, what with my knees and all, I’m intending to retire. Now this rustling business is cleared up, it seems about as good a time as any.’ He looked at the familiar faces round the room. Annie and Mary May smiled fondly. Pearl leaned on the bar. McGreggor and Charlie raised their glasses. Even Logan looked mildly disappointed.
‘Thing is, I’ve got to find a replacement. This town doesn’t require a full time sheriff now. It needs someone who knows the place, someone trustworthy for folks to turn to. That’s why I’m going to ask Hart if he’ll take it on.’
Hartford was stunned. Everyone was looking at him. Annie was smiling.
‘You sure sprung this on me, Sheriff.’ Hartford felt pride rise up in him, a sudden warmth as if he had stood next to a stove. ‘I’ll have to think about this. The Agency is waiting for my report about the rustling. But thank you.’
‘While you’re thinking, I’m taking the step of appointing Pearl as the new deputy,’ the sheriff went on. ‘She can cover for you until you make up your mind.’
Pearl whooped with surprise and delight.
‘Thank you, Sheriff. Mighty nice of you.’
‘Just for the record.’ The sheriff looked at McGreggor. ‘Anyone who can make a bunch of hard-boiled cowhands leave their guns at the door every time they enter a saloon is more than fit to be a deputy in this town.’
Mary May had been whispering to Annie while all this had been going on.
‘Mr McGreggor,’ she said. ‘You’re making me a kind offer, but I’ll be living at the farm with Annie for a while. Maybe we could call on Charlie when we need him but if he’s willing, I’d like him to take over at the Lazy D for the short term. We can discuss bringing the two ranches together in a few weeks maybe.’
McGreggor eyed her with a new respect. This was no longer the distraught girl who had thrown herself on his mercy when she discovered what happened to her father. Gently, politely and firmly, she had stood up to him. She treated him like a partner in business, offered courtesy and demanded the same.
Charlie Nudd beamed. ‘I can ride between the farm and the Lazy D, no problem.’
‘It’s a deal, then.’ McGreggor raised his glass.
The sheriff was assuming he’d say yes, Hartford thought. By itself, the offer of becoming sheriff of Credence wasn’t something he’d ever wished for. But the farm needed more work than Charlie could do in the short term and would probably be too much for Annie, even with Mary May’s help. The offer of the sheriff’s job was one more reason why he should come home.
The following day, rain came as a shock. It had been dry for weeks, pale skies, clouds as thin as feathers and concussing heat. The miles of buffalo grass prairie that stretched south of the town were brown and parched and no one had ever known the level of the Blue River so low. But early in the morning, a wind got up, teased the dust from the town street and tossed it in the air. A warm south wind at this time of year was advance warning of a tornado. Before they left for Dunmore’s funeral at the Lazy D, the townsfolk made sure nothing was left lying around in their yards, bolted their doors and windows and took their horses up to Greely’s livery.
Dunmore’s grave had been dug on a rise which overlooked the ranch house and the southern portion of Lazy D land. The whole town and all the ranch hands were there, even Boone, handcuffed and standing beside the sheriff at the back of the crowd. There was dampness in the air which made the preacher hurry. He spoke respectfully about how the achievements of Dunmore’s life were all around them, his fine ranch house, his land and his cattle. He praised Mary May for her fortitude and insisted that no man could want for a more loyal or loving daughter. Supported on one side by McGreggor and on the other by Annie, Mary May sobbed as the ranch hands lowered the pine coffin. Away to the south, dark clouds built on the horizon and everyone checked the sky.
From the Lazy D, the crowd then moved to the Hartford farm. In a corner of the pasture behind the house, beside his wife’s grave, McGreggor’s men lowered Joe Hartford’s coffin into the ground. As Hart, Boone and Annie stepped forward to cast handfuls of dirt into the grave, a fine warm rain started to fall. It was like gauze, soft and comforting. It caressed the faces of anyone who looked up and the wind which carried it was gentle and warm. Charlie Nudd handed round shovels and made sure the men worked quickly.
Annie led the way inside, where she had set jugs of Joe Hartford’s potato wine on the kitchen table. The sheriff let Boone stay for a while but no one seemed interested in talking to him. Annie was busy with the food and Hartford stayed outside on the porch. After half an hour, Boone had had enough and asked the sheriff to take him back to jail. It wasn’t long before people began to make their excuses, concerned to slip away before the weather broke. The rain had left off for a while but the wind had picked up and inky clouds scudded in front of the sun. Worried that his herd would be spooked by the coming storm, McGreggor ordered his men back to the ranch. Charlie Nudd offered to stay, but Annie turned him down. The preacher took Pearl, Pops and Bill Greely back to town in his wagon. Mary May insisted on staying with Annie.
Taking care not to sit in his pa’s old rocking chair, Hartford found a seat on the porch and sat down with Annie and Mary May to watch the weather blow in.
‘I’m turning down the sheriff’s offer,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay for a couple of weeks as there are some jobs need doing around here.’
‘Still going to be a Pinkerton?’ Annie smiled at him. ‘I’m glad, Hart. It’s what you always wanted.’
‘I’ll get back as often as I can,’ Hartford said quickly, he had expected Annie to be disappointed. ‘See you, help out on the farm.’
‘I think we should sell the farm to McGreggor,’ Annie said quietly. ‘You’ve got your life, now I want mine.’
‘That’s what I’m going to do,’ Mary may cut in. ‘McGreggor wants to buy the Lazy D. I know he’ll take the farm as well.’
Hartford saw the excitement in both women’s faces.
‘When McGreggor buys the Lazy D, I’m going to have a house built right in the centre of Dallas.’ Mary May could hardly contain herself. ‘It will be a fine brick house with beautiful windows, a view over the street and a garden with a plane tree where people can come calling and I can take tea in the afternoons. I’v
e asked Annie to come and live there with me.’
‘That’s what I want to do. Mary May says I can live there for nothing, but I’ve told her I’ll get a job and pay my way. I’m so excited, Hart.’
‘A job?’ Hartford didn’t know what to say.
‘Teaching little children. They say the railroad will reach Dallas inside two years. The workers will bring their families. I could teach the children their letters. I could do it in a room in Mary May’s house and pay her rent for it.’
‘A school?’ Hartford could see the joy in his sister’s face. ‘What about Credence, won’t you miss it?’
‘Credence is done, Hart. Anyone can see that. With Sheriff Milton retired, there won’t be a town. Pearl says the sheriff thinks the town can go on the way it always has. But it can’t. She doesn’t want to be a deputy here any more than you want to be sheriff. She plans to hand over the saloon to Bill Greely and Pops and open a joint in Dallas. If they don’t want to take it on, she says they can come to Dallas with her. Reckons she’ll start with a tent down where they’ll be building the railroad and when she’s made enough money, she’ll open a place in town.’
Away on the southern horizon lightning forked into the ground and a minute later, thunder rolled across the distant sky. The air pressure slackened, the wind gathered and a veil of warm rain gusted across the yard in front of them. Sheltered by the porch roof, they sat back. The rain refreshed the land and the wind brought a coolness they had not felt for weeks. Almost in front of their eyes, green shoots appeared amongst the parched grass.
